Post by deliverator on Apr 26, 2007 18:22:23 GMT -6
Rocks jut out of the turbulent steel gray waters, curving to define a crescent elongated at the top. At the middle steep cliffs turn into a graying sandy beach, majestic evergreens taper off just feet from the salty crashing surf. Fog rolls in steadily, coloring the secluded bay in muted tones. If one concentrates, strange unnatural shapes can be discerned; uneven triangles, strange tube shaped objects, and tall broken spines with odd intersecting lines. This is a graveyard for ships.
Amongst the fog a shape begins to coalesce from the mist itself. Very vaguely human at first it seemed to become more and more defined by the passing second until the outline of a woman became definite. Far too large to be human, and its appearance to rapid for it to be anything not of the occult, why would it have come here? For what purpose, with what intent? If watchful eyes had paid attention not only to the figure but the greater scenery, dark stalking figures would have been notice. Creeping through the undergrowth of the lush forest.
As these numerous figures edged closer to the minimal light they could be divined to be seemingly unexceptional humans. That was if one ignored their stark nakedness, and the intricate flowing, twisting tattoos that painted their bodies. Dark, tanned brown skin glistened in the settling dew of the mists, setting the black splotches of artistry alight with reflected gleams. They spoke no words, this gathering of naked men and women. But still a gentle hum filled the air, as if a great crowd where murmuring in their lowest whispers.
Suddenly the figure out of the water coalesced even closer to shore, skin and body still almost indiscernible from the surrounding fog. Near the top of what could be assumed was its head a yawning gap opened up, a deep resonating voice rose out from the sea in time with this action. There were no words, simply a steady rising crescendo reminiscent of the songs of whales in the deep, except without the frantic effort of communication. Deep, sorrowful, and overall menacing.
A graying crone near the center of the group gestured towards one of the males to her right. Without hesitation he charged forward, feet carrying him with unnatural speed towards the waters edge and then without care for the turbulent and dangerous waters he lunged towards the figure in the mists. Just as suddenly as it was there, it was not. Gone, then there again but not exactly there; where it had been, but a little to the left. This time the withering woman did nothing, but still more males sped forward to the figure. Each time they tried and failed to capture the creature it shifted position, jumping about more wildly as time went on. Soon some of the young females even joined their male comrades. All ended up bobbing listlessly in the waters, as if now that they had each failed they were content to simply watching the unfolding hunt like a sporting event.
Time went and the water filled with almost two and a half dozen of the hunters; male and female combined. Still the old crone stayed ashore, now sitting cross-legged, looking to her left and right as if searching for someone. A small girl or probably no more than thirteen years approached the edge of the forest, shy and timid in her approach. The briefest hint of a smile edged at the old witches face before she beckoned the girl closer; quickly she complied until she was almost kneeling behind the wrinkled leader. Something brief exchange of whispers followed, until the teen straightened up. A wild light shone in her eyes, enhancing the minimal tattoos she bore.
The girl was quite opposed to her predecessors in her approach to the task presented to her, she walked quietly up to the edge of the water, inspecting it and paying seemingly little mind to the strange apparition. She stalked the waterfront for a while, as if attempting to find some path or rode through the solid expanse of water. All the while the creature of the mists watched, or somehow seemed to watch her, though how one might describe the process of a creature without eyes doing this is befuddling. Silently the young female turned and walked back up to shore till she stood straight in front of the old matron, eyeing her defiantly, then turned on her heel and started running to the water. Once again her approach was in opposition to the others. She did not sprint full on, instead building speed as she traversed the short expanse of sandy beach.
As she ran mists gathered around her, whispering and condensing in the thick air around her. Slowly they formed the vague shape of a wolf and utterly encompassed the girl. Without a sound or a noise the girl was impossible gone, and in her place an immense gray wolf ran, eyes shimmering with the same passion and defiance displayed earlier by the girl.
As the wolf-girl leapt the collective breathes of all those assembled where held audibly, when the figure vanished just like all the other times the disappointment was palpable. All but the old crone on the beach expected the wolf-girl to land unceremoniously into the troubled waters, and all where simultaneously surprised when this did not occur. Instead paws flitted briefly on the steel gray surface, before pushing off and launching the wolf-girl in a wholly other direction.
Thus it was that the mist figure came into being for the briefest of seconds; then promptly shatter in a rain of shimmering water droplets and the wolf-girl slipped beneath the surface of the waves.
Bare minutes later, all the tribe stood at the shore, most having swum from only a brief distance stood wrapped in skins of unknown animals, waiting patiently for the reemergence of the girl. Fires were being prepared by some of those who had not participated, but even those still watched with eager attention out of the corner of their eyes for any sign. First it was merely what appeared to be a bobbing object a little ways out, but seconds later it became clear as the eyes and then rest of the face emerged.
When she stood in front of her people once again, clothed in nothing but a long thing strap of animal hide tied around her neck at the end of which a, deep rust colored seashell, hung between her breasts. She was otherwise unchanged, no miraculous transformation of body had occurred; indeed none had really been expected.
A great eruption of cheering burst out from the gathered people, enough noise that birds nestled in trees deep within the forest where startled; though they did not take to flight like their cousins nearer the commotion. Fires were lit, and a great crush of people gathered around the youngster to wrap her in a great heavy fur. She was lifted up as well, and a great chanting arose from the mass. Now returned the shy timid girl who had sought only the reassurance of the abban, and not this wide adulation.
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A short little story, the last italicized word ought not be a real world.
Amongst the fog a shape begins to coalesce from the mist itself. Very vaguely human at first it seemed to become more and more defined by the passing second until the outline of a woman became definite. Far too large to be human, and its appearance to rapid for it to be anything not of the occult, why would it have come here? For what purpose, with what intent? If watchful eyes had paid attention not only to the figure but the greater scenery, dark stalking figures would have been notice. Creeping through the undergrowth of the lush forest.
As these numerous figures edged closer to the minimal light they could be divined to be seemingly unexceptional humans. That was if one ignored their stark nakedness, and the intricate flowing, twisting tattoos that painted their bodies. Dark, tanned brown skin glistened in the settling dew of the mists, setting the black splotches of artistry alight with reflected gleams. They spoke no words, this gathering of naked men and women. But still a gentle hum filled the air, as if a great crowd where murmuring in their lowest whispers.
Suddenly the figure out of the water coalesced even closer to shore, skin and body still almost indiscernible from the surrounding fog. Near the top of what could be assumed was its head a yawning gap opened up, a deep resonating voice rose out from the sea in time with this action. There were no words, simply a steady rising crescendo reminiscent of the songs of whales in the deep, except without the frantic effort of communication. Deep, sorrowful, and overall menacing.
A graying crone near the center of the group gestured towards one of the males to her right. Without hesitation he charged forward, feet carrying him with unnatural speed towards the waters edge and then without care for the turbulent and dangerous waters he lunged towards the figure in the mists. Just as suddenly as it was there, it was not. Gone, then there again but not exactly there; where it had been, but a little to the left. This time the withering woman did nothing, but still more males sped forward to the figure. Each time they tried and failed to capture the creature it shifted position, jumping about more wildly as time went on. Soon some of the young females even joined their male comrades. All ended up bobbing listlessly in the waters, as if now that they had each failed they were content to simply watching the unfolding hunt like a sporting event.
Time went and the water filled with almost two and a half dozen of the hunters; male and female combined. Still the old crone stayed ashore, now sitting cross-legged, looking to her left and right as if searching for someone. A small girl or probably no more than thirteen years approached the edge of the forest, shy and timid in her approach. The briefest hint of a smile edged at the old witches face before she beckoned the girl closer; quickly she complied until she was almost kneeling behind the wrinkled leader. Something brief exchange of whispers followed, until the teen straightened up. A wild light shone in her eyes, enhancing the minimal tattoos she bore.
The girl was quite opposed to her predecessors in her approach to the task presented to her, she walked quietly up to the edge of the water, inspecting it and paying seemingly little mind to the strange apparition. She stalked the waterfront for a while, as if attempting to find some path or rode through the solid expanse of water. All the while the creature of the mists watched, or somehow seemed to watch her, though how one might describe the process of a creature without eyes doing this is befuddling. Silently the young female turned and walked back up to shore till she stood straight in front of the old matron, eyeing her defiantly, then turned on her heel and started running to the water. Once again her approach was in opposition to the others. She did not sprint full on, instead building speed as she traversed the short expanse of sandy beach.
As she ran mists gathered around her, whispering and condensing in the thick air around her. Slowly they formed the vague shape of a wolf and utterly encompassed the girl. Without a sound or a noise the girl was impossible gone, and in her place an immense gray wolf ran, eyes shimmering with the same passion and defiance displayed earlier by the girl.
As the wolf-girl leapt the collective breathes of all those assembled where held audibly, when the figure vanished just like all the other times the disappointment was palpable. All but the old crone on the beach expected the wolf-girl to land unceremoniously into the troubled waters, and all where simultaneously surprised when this did not occur. Instead paws flitted briefly on the steel gray surface, before pushing off and launching the wolf-girl in a wholly other direction.
Thus it was that the mist figure came into being for the briefest of seconds; then promptly shatter in a rain of shimmering water droplets and the wolf-girl slipped beneath the surface of the waves.
Bare minutes later, all the tribe stood at the shore, most having swum from only a brief distance stood wrapped in skins of unknown animals, waiting patiently for the reemergence of the girl. Fires were being prepared by some of those who had not participated, but even those still watched with eager attention out of the corner of their eyes for any sign. First it was merely what appeared to be a bobbing object a little ways out, but seconds later it became clear as the eyes and then rest of the face emerged.
When she stood in front of her people once again, clothed in nothing but a long thing strap of animal hide tied around her neck at the end of which a, deep rust colored seashell, hung between her breasts. She was otherwise unchanged, no miraculous transformation of body had occurred; indeed none had really been expected.
A great eruption of cheering burst out from the gathered people, enough noise that birds nestled in trees deep within the forest where startled; though they did not take to flight like their cousins nearer the commotion. Fires were lit, and a great crush of people gathered around the youngster to wrap her in a great heavy fur. She was lifted up as well, and a great chanting arose from the mass. Now returned the shy timid girl who had sought only the reassurance of the abban, and not this wide adulation.
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A short little story, the last italicized word ought not be a real world.